


Stray Dogs Stick Together

by TerresDeBrume



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Companionship, Gen, Roommates, house fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerresDeBrume/pseuds/TerresDeBrume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They haven’t gotten to the part where they actually talk yet, but it doesn’t mean they can’t communicate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stray Dogs Stick Together

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first Teen Wolf fic, inspired by some of the posts circulating on tumblr after Monday's episode. Nothing spoilery though. Hope you'll like it :)

Sometimes –it doesn’t happen often, but sometimes- Derek and Isaac do their own version of opening up to each other.

It probably doesn’t sound like it, because there’s never many words that come between them, never enough trust for words and the baggage they bring along. It does happen though. It’s about the little things, like the way Derek tries his best not to shout for any reason… he growls and grunts a lot, and sometimes he bare his fangs too –because let’s face it, their little cohabitation is far from fully functional yet- but he never yells or shout. It’s about that, and how Isaac makes sure to keep his photo album –the one with pictures of his family before it broke apart and before he was too scared of his father to remember that he loved him- hidden behind the rest of his stuff.

To paraphrase a movie Isaac will never admit is on his hard drive, it’s little and it’s broken, but it’s not bad, and maybe edging toward good.

 

Sometimes, though, there are also things that are… not quite big, not really, but they aren’t that small either, like the night the fire-alarm goes off in their building.

Isaac is sitting on the couch with the Gordon Ramsay muted on the TV, and he’s making up fake dialogs in his head as he listens to Derek tinkering in the kitchen when the wail of a fire alarm pierces the air and nearly deafens him.

 

Isaac has gone through fire-alert drills in school and, deaf or not, it doesn’t change much: grab a jacket off the back of the nearest chair and get out, check your classmate or closest friend is with you and… and Derek is not here.

Isaac didn’t smell anything before, but all of a sudden the smell of burning food and wood and paint invade his nostrils, probably in response to several doors opening in a short amount of time… it’s acrid and it stings, and the wolf part of him wants to run as far as possible, but he makes it shut up. He’s human. He’s got a brain and higher reasoning skills –or so he hopes, at least- and he knows he can’t leave Derek alone in this situation unless he wants to avoid mirrors for the rest of his life.

So Isaac stomps the instinct down and runs back to the kitchen, literally howling for Derek –maybe he’s wolfed out, after all.

 

He finds the alpha in the kitchen, panting hard as he bends their steel sink under his fingers, clinging to the material as if his life depends on it.  _Right,_  Isaac thinks, remembering what he learned of Derek’s history,  _fire_.

The burning stench is getting stronger and the wailing of the sirens feels like someone’s pulling red-hot wire through his ears, bringing tears of pain to Isaac’s eyes as he gets down on his knees near his accidental Alpha. He looks rooted to the spot, to the point where he doesn’t react when Isaac grabs his shirt and tries to pull him upright.

 

“Derek, come on, we can’t stay here!” He says, voice rising alongside his fear, “Derek! Derek damn it, _move_!”

 

But Derek doesn’t answer even as Isaac all but tears the sleeve off his shoulder, and the smell of smoke is getting stronger, the alarm worse, the crawling of Isaac’s skin intensifies—he thinks, for a wild moment, that he’d rather be back in the freezer than face this, but keeps the thought at bay, like holding the full moon at arm’s length because there are more pressing things to do.

Derek looks up then, wild and unfocused with fear, as if looking at an entirely different world and Isaac’s heart is beating too loud and there’s too much noise, too many smells, too much to see, to do, to think—Derek roars when Isaac bites him hard in the shoulder, but he does get up on his feet and so it becomes a win.

Isaac grabs his wrist and drags him out of their apartment into the corridor, now filled with smoke. They half-run, half-stumble down the stairs and burst into the night air, where Isaac proceeds to  _accidentally_ fall face first in humid grass, burying his face in the mud until he’s sure he can look up without danger of anyone seeing misplaced hair or length of teeth.

 

Behind him, Isaac can make out someone panting hard even through the alarm and, when he turns, Derek is standing with his back to the building, fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs. The flames aren’t even that bad, really, and Isaac guesses his werewolf sense made the whole situation seem more dangerous than it really was, but the fright was there, and he can’t help the relieved sigh that springs to his lips.

 

“Let’s not cook tonight,” Isaac says as he tries to look for stars in Beacon Hills’ sky, “Let’s get Chinese or something.”

“Italian,” Derek mutters, which makes Isaac look up because Derek doesn’t like Italian.

 

Italian food is a strictly Isaac thing in their little household of two, and Derek always grunts a little –or a lot- when Isaac tries to suggest they get some. Isaac sort of wants to ask what prompted the change, but Derek is avoiding his gaze, and he decides to let it go, like they’ve both learned to let go of these things.

 

“Okay,” he says, “Italian sounds good. And…” He pauses and feels his cheeks grow warmer when Derek raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

 

Well then. Today is  _still_  not the day they speak frankly.

 

“We can get you a grilled steak or something, I guess.”

 

Derek nods, both of them knowing what the conversation really meant.

It’s not so little, though it’s not really big either, but it’s good.

 

Isaac smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and critiques are welcome, whether you leave them here or [on Tumblr](http://terresdebrumestories.tumblr.com/ask) :D


End file.
